From Gold To Crumbling Clay

Ancient altars stepping stones
rising 'bove green canopies high,
Reaching up towards the Heaven's sun
shining in the noonday sky.

Lush foliage and climbing vines
once rooted in rotting flesh and bones,
Trying to hide a people's wrongful past
when blood flowed down their stepping stones.

Colored beaks in swaying trees
screeching down at the steps below,
Eyeing stretching claws and yawning fangs
basking in the noonday's glow.

A reverie's vision appears
of gathering throngs like swelling seas,
Appeasing thirsty gods with flowing blood
from temple hands on bended knees.

Unholy priests greet with praise
as hands fill their coffers with gold,
Many leave their virgin daughters hands
expecting blessings tenfold.

Tears of many saddened mothers
unconsolable like rivers flow,
Deep within an inherent love persists
betwixt the right and wrong they know.

Finally they all succumb
as lying words of priests console,
'Tis better to give all your treasures
than lose your blessings and souls.

Days end a procession begins
winding through a massing crowd they come,
Along, heads and hands in obeisance bow
at the passing of flutes and drums.

Tanned curves of naked virgins
glist'ning in beads of sweat and oil,
Throwing petals at their worshippers
praising to be so loyal.

Feathered cane handle blades follow
held in the folds of gold banded arms,
Loincloth priests holding feather scepters last
adorned with chains of golden charms.

The night brings a ritual feast
to the temple grounds they are led,
Their blood in the morrow's noonday hour
froms its altars will be shed.

All are banned from the ritual feast
save the few chosen of royalty,
Worshippers in wine's blinding hold care not
but others doubt its sanctity.

From a loge I hide and peek
through windowed halls accessed by vines
the torches flames reveal chanting priests
mixing concoctions in wine.

High priests and smiling royalty
on them the hands of young virgins wait
All partaking in wine, music and feast
indulging into night hours late.

Potent concoctions take hold
holy and royal hands no more,
They plunder the temple's coffers gold
and take the virgins like whores.

With their burning loins now sated
they succumb to the potions and sleep,
In new found lusts the maidens scream for more
from betwixt moisten passions weep.

Waiting not parting lips meet
fiery tongues like licking flames seek
Oiled curves in tantalizing embrace
thighs entwine as passions peak.

Beating hearts pound as their eyes watch
oiled bodies like serpents writhe and twist,
Waiting trays,flutes,drums and guarding blades fall
loincloths raise in unholy trysts.

In the late morn's aftermath
squinting eyes line in procession,
Maidens now wear feather plumes to hide
their shameful suckled passions.

Priests put on their holy faces
expressions to hide their guilt froms sins,
A day to day look they all know too well
fooling eyes from the truth within.

Now standing at the altar
sacrificial blades glint in raise,
Lying prayers echo down at noon
so the blades in shouts of praise.

Startled wings screech and take to air
awakens me from a noonday dream,
Crawling and climbing creatures scamper 'bout
as monkeys from high treetops scream.

Wings far in the horizons
calm returns to the day to day
so my dream waking my eyes to see
how mankind can go astray.

Like the dream a great king once had
of a great figure like that of man,
Weakened by his sinful impurities
crumbled and blew away like sand.

Head of gold and breast of silver
arms the same with bronze thighs and girth,
Legs of iron, feet and toes the same
mixed with parts of claying earth.

We've gone from gold to crumbling clay
drawn down into a darkened funnel.
The Lord's good book of Daniel tells all
on the back of sin we pummeled.

In His words there is solace
though mankind will soon turn to dust,
An eternal kingdom awaits those
in His words by faith will trust...